You, learned Ana, who like all scribes observe so closely, will have noted how little things--such as the scent of a flower, or the passing of a bird, or even the writhing of a snake in the dust--often bring back to the mind events or words it has forgotten long ago." "Well--what of our meeting ?" I broke in hastily.
"Nothing at all--or only this.

Just before it you were talking with the Hebrew Jabez, the lady Merapi's uncle, were you not ?" "Yes, I was talking with him in an open place, alone." "Not so, learned Scribe, for you know we are never alone--quite.

Could you but see it, every grain of sand has an ear." "Be pleased to explain, O Ki." "Nay, Ana, it would be too long, and short jests are ever the best.

As I have told you, you were not alone, for though there were some words that I did not catch, _I_ heard much of what passed between you and Jabez." "What did you hear ?" I asked wrathfully, and next instant wished that I had bitten through my tongue before it shaped the words.
"Much, much.

Let me think.